


Sail The Darkened Seas

by audioanon



Category: Kill la Kill
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:22:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1713770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audioanon/pseuds/audioanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And I guess I just don't know, and I guess I just don't know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sail The Darkened Seas

**Author's Note:**

> Woah hey there. Before you jump into this one, I feel it's fair to warn you this is pretty fucking dark and depressing and may be kinda upsetting to certain people. But hey, that shit is my jam, and I'm tellin ya now. My new motto may just be "can't stop won't stop"

Panting, Ryuko runs across the narrow city street, only alit by a single flickering overhead lamp. Sweat seeps out of every pore on her body, the cool midnight air plastering her hair to the back of her damp neck. She briefly recalls Satsuki offering to tie her hair back, but in her haste she shoved her away, promising she’d be back soon. Then she fled into the night, maneuvering around back alleys and ducking under the huge highway overpass to find the person she was looking for. When she approached the man, whose oversized coat was caked with dirt and emanated a terrible stench, he grinned grossly at her, remembering her face from several nights previous.

“I knew you’d be back soon,” he said sickeningly, his repulsive smile spreading across his grimy face.

“Shut the fuck up, I have the cash,” she retorted, reaching her hand into her jacket pocket and pulling out a wad of crumpled twenties, tightly clutching the bills in her hand. She hoped the man didn’t notice the slight shaking of her limbs, not from the brisk air hitting her exposed forearms, making her hair stand on end, or due to any immediate fear for her safety, but rather from the surmounting craving that was beginning to course through her body. The only way she kept herself in check was the fact that she knew Satsuki was worse. The man reached out and Ryuko flattened the bills and flashed how much cash was in the wad, refusing to let the man take the money yet without making sure he wasn’t ripping her off. 

“A hundred bucks? That’ll get ya two grams,” he says, reaching inside his jacket and pulling out a balloon of smack. 

“Two and a quarter,” she hisses, biting the inside of her cheek.

“I’ll make it two and an eighth,” he says, narrowing his eyes at her boldness, “this is good shit little lady.”

“China white?” she asks, raising her brow.

“Persian,” he grumbles, scratching his neck.

“Then make it two and a fuckin quarter,” Ryuko growls, growing impatient.

“You’re lucky the market is slow you little cunt, otherwise I wouldn’t put up with your shit.” Ryuko moves so quickly the man isn’t even aware what is happening until he feels her elbow against his throat, his back pressed against the vandalized wall of the underpass.

“Do we have a deal or not,” Ryuko states coldly, while the dealer is just sucking air. He manages a nod and Ryuko releases him. The man gasps and glares, all the while Ryuko sending him a hard stare in return. She taps her foot erratically and watches the man like a hawk as he measures out the correct amount. He hands her the smack, and she inspects it briefly. Pleased, Ryuko finally hands over the cash, the dealer grabbing for it greedily. 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” she says snidely over her shoulder as she begins to walk away. The dealer just scoffs.

“I’ll be here when you run out,” he says, returning to the coy persona he had at the beginning of the meeting. Ryuko rolls her eyes and doesn’t reply, mostly because she knows he’s right. She undoubtedly will be back.

Ryuko wishes she could sprint back to Satsuki, wishes she could push her body like that and feel her muscles ache in a good way, but she knows she can’t—she’s been shooting up too much, and with the withdrawal starting to set in, she feels like she could puke at any moment. Still, she pushes her body’s protests aside and sets off at a gentle jog, being sure to avoid the lit areas; when she is unable to, she keeps her head down and shoves her shaky fists into her jacket pockets. The smack is safely tucked against her chest, inside her jacket, but she is still paranoid anyway and is careful to not jostle it around too much. With her pace set the way it is, halfway back to Satuki she does have to bend over and heave up whatever lies in her stomach after days of barely eating anything, save for some junk food, which is still few and far between. Wiping her mouth and recovering from retching, Ryuko pulls out a beaten pack of cigarettes, lighting one up, and hopes the nicotine will calm her body until she makes it back to Satsuki. She manages to smoke three cigarettes during her walk, every nerve ending on edge. The short trip has exhausted her, and when the familiar apartment building comes into view, she sighs in relief. She quickly punches in the four-digit code to unlock the front door, then sets to the agonizing task of climbing five flights of stairs, as the elevator has been out of commission ever since her and Satsuki rented out this room less than a month ago.

As she walks, she thinks back as to how on earth it ended up this way. She recalls meeting Satsuki at a bar around ten months ago, hitting it off quickly. Ryuko fell for her hard, and eventually, they were living together, making exciting plans for the future. Everything about their romance was sensory, so alive with feeling. All the sex, all the drugs, and they felt untouchable. And it led them to do stupid, stupid things. And they thought they would get away with it. But, the partying lifestyle caught up with them quickly, and drove them even closer together as friends and family began to drop off the map. And now, here they are, shooting up heroin in some sordid setting. 

When she finally reaches the front door of 5b, her hands are shaking so much she drops her keys trying to unlock the front door. She eventually jerks it open, and stumbles into the one-room studio-style apartment. Had the building been in better shape and not in such a shady part of town, it would have been a nice place to live. But, that is not the case—the white cabinets are falling apart, the paint on the drywall is peeling, and the carpet has more cigarette burns than Ryuko can count. The place came “furnished,” which meant it included a mattress and coffee table set in the living room, both soiled and falling apart. Still, they had a place to stay. For now. 

Ryuko quickly spots Satsuki—how could she not, considering the space—sitting crumpled on the mattress, leaning against the drywall, head cocked to the side, as if she were asleep. Ryuko momentarily panics at her initial stillness, but her head rolls to the side and her eyes flutter open. Satsuki smiles weakly.

“Ryuko, you’re back,” she moans, struggling to keep her eyes open. Ryuko collapses onto the mattress at her side, wrapping her arms around Satsuki’s mostly unmoving frail frame in a loose embrace. 

“I’m back,” she sighs, content. But the moment is over quickly; both her and Satsuki are jonsing for a fix. Ryuko releases Satsuki and reaches over to the coffee table in front of her and sets to work melting down the quarter in an errant bottle cap. On the floor to her left, she grabs the pack of needles, frowning when she sees there are only four left. She mentally notes to ask around the neighborhood for a clean set. Once she’s cooked down the smack, Ryuko searches for the last of the lemons, grabbing all the nearby plastic containers. She barely wrangles out enough juice to dissolve the Persian, but it’s enough. She grabs a q-tip from the container on the coffee table, ripping off the cotton and soaks up the brown tar. Ryuko draws up two rigs, nice and heavy, and returns to Satsuki’s side. 

“Here,” she says, handing Satsuki the loaded rig.

“Will you do it for me?” she asks, voice shaky with anticipation. Ryuko can’t blame her, Satsuki’s withdrawals are so much worse than hers, and she can’t deny her own palate is wet with longing. Ryuko sets about to finding a vein, but Satsuki’s arms are so collapsed and scabbed over it proves difficult. Ryuko abandons that endeavor and sets about to finding a vein in her feet, which isn’t too difficult. She pulls back the plunger, sees Satsuki’s blood mix with the tar, and pushes it home. It’ll take a few seconds longer to hit considering that feet are furthest from the brain, so Ryuko quickly sets about to finding a vein for herself. She settles on her knuckle, and it takes a few tries before she can get it to hit. But boy, once it does and she feels the tar shove her brain back into the lull, she is finally happy. She looks over and sees the light return to Satsuki’s eyes, her huge sigh of relief fills Ryuko up, swelling with happiness. Ryuko turns and pulls Satsuki into a gentle kiss, cupping her face lightly. Satsuki returns the favor and holds Ryuko’s hand. 

Slowly, Ryuko starts to realize something is wrong: first Satsuki promptly drops her hand, then she stops kissing Ryuko, her forehead slumping into her shoulder. 

“Hey Satsuki, are you ok?” she asks, without any tone of unease in her voice. But then, she pushes back Satsuki’s head and sees her face is completely blue, and she realizes what is happening. Ryuko sucks in a sharp breath, and grabs Satsuki’s shoulders, shaking her.

“Satsuki?! SATSUKI?!” she yells into Satsuki’s unresponsive face. Panic-stricken, Ryuko drags her to the bathroom and throws her into the tub—she runs the shower, hoping the frigid water can help her body respond. She pounds on her chest with a single fist, as a sort of pseudo-chest compression, which is all she can manage. She tries giving her mouth to mouth, and watches as Satsuki’s chest rises and falls. But she still does not wake. Starting to sob, she climbs into the bathtub with her, water still running, and clings to her. The thought of calling for help doesn’t even enter Ryuko’s brain at this point, rather than that, she just grips Satsuki’s lifeless body, wanting to scream but unable to make a sound. 

This was Satsuki, the girl she walked right up to the first time they met, and didn’t even flinch when Ryuko drunkly asked if she needed a place to sit and offered up her face. This was Satsuki, the girl who stayed the morning after they first slept together and made her tea in bed. This was Satsuki, the girl who opened up to her about her sexual abuse before Ryuko offered up her own. This was Satsuki, the girl who would just lay in bed with her at four in the morning when she couldn't sleep and talk about future, a better future. And even though Satsuki seemed cold on the outside, expressionless, Ryuko knew better. She knew her so much better than that. And this was Satsuki, the girl who Ryuko just watched die by her own hands. _I killed her_ —that's the only thought occupying Ryuko's mind. She slowly gets up and moves toward the coffee table, limbs stiff and her body soaking wet. She wordlessly rigs a speedball, using up the lines of coke on the coffee table, long since ignored, and the heroin she cooked up earlier. Ryuko pulls the cigarettes out of her jacket pocket and realize they're soaking wet. She throws them as hard as she can against the wall, shoulders hunched over and shaking from trying to hold back tears. She spots a cigarette in the ashtray, only half smoked, and she recognizes Satsuki's lipstick on the filter. She picks it up and puts it between her teeth, lighting it and savoring the smoke. She brings the syringe with her as she gets back into the bathtub, straddling Satsuki's body. She moves to turn off the water, but she doesn't pull the handle all the way over, so there is still a gentle drizzle of water coming from the shower head. Ryuko just doesn't care about that.

She stares at Satsuki's face. She thinks to herself that if she didn't know better she could pretend she was sleeping. She touches Satsuki's cheek, stroking her face, and abruptly stops. Taking one last deep puff of the cig, Ryuko lets it burn all the way down to the filter, only then stamping it out on the tiled floor. She breaths deep, prepared. Ryuko makes the tightest fist she can, and on cue a single vein pops out of her arm where none did before just ten minutes ago. She jams the needle in, not even wincing when blood drips down her arm from her unkind treatment of it, and leans her forehead into Satsuki's.

"I'm sorry," she barely whispers, and pushes down the plunger. She feels the speedball hit, the coke turning her on and the heroin shutting her down. The heroin wins out. She heaves up bile onto the floor, she would never be so careless as to puke all over Satsuki, not that it hadn't happened before. She feels her heart skipping, and then, everything fades to black as she slumps over into Satsuki's chest. 

The night ends with flashing red and blue lights, and body bags for two.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so it has come to my attention that I should probably give credit where credit is due. That facesitting line? I totally took that from Jayne (http://janewithawhy.tumblr.com/) when we were comparing our smoothest moments. I'm sorry Jayne, please take solace in the that you contributed the only funny moment in this is whole piece. Ok I'm better now.


End file.
